


Of Comic Books and Doublethink

by Nicnac



Category: Smallville
Genre: Actual Enemies, Domesticity of the slightly insane, Fluff, Hugs for Lex, Humor, Lex is a total BAMF, M/M, Pretend Enemies, Romance, Snuggling, Toothpaste-flavored kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:24:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark doesn't understand Lex's Orwellian mind processes, but he's more than willing to throw his hands up and go along with the crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Now With Half the Evil and Twice the Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> I love "Lex never gets transferred to Smallville" AUs. Don't get me wrong, their epic friendship is awesome, but there's so much one can do with a clean slate.
> 
> Doublethink, for those who don't know, is from George Orwell's _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ and is "the act of simultaneously accepting two mutually contradictory beliefs as correct." (Wikipedia)

For about two weeks after Clark started the whole superhero gig, things went pretty well. Pretty well, that is, except for the part where Lois thought Superman was a good name. This was partially because his first official act of heroics was fairly conspicuous, saving the Metropolis Museum of Modern Art from a terrorist bombing, and partially because his second official act was saving Lois from being shot by said terrorists when she stuck her nose in where it really didn’t belong. The article she wrote about him, or “Superman” rather, after that was just hard-hitting enough not to be considered a love letter. In retrospect, Clark probably should have found a way to work the fact that he was gay into the interview. But, his co-worker/best friend’s cousin’s awkward romantic advances (well, awkward for Clark at any rate) on his alter-ego aside, Clark was feeling fairly good about his decision to go public with his people-saving thing. And then Lex Luthor “attacked” Metropolis with his robot monkey army, of all things, and it all went to shit.

After that Clark had to deal with Lex’s evil plots on a weekly, and sometimes bi-weekly, basis. This was confusing, because Lex didn’t even seem like the villain type. His actions weren’t exactly above reproach per se, but he was still cleaner than most corporate executives and _much_ cleaner than his father. In fact, after Lionel had died of liver disease a while back, Lex had spent over well a year cleaning-up after his more questionable projects. Not to mention Clark had saved Lex from a kidnapping attempt on his second day on the job as Superman and had, while flying Lex back to his penthouse, had a very pleasant conversation with him.  Clark had got the distinct impression that, underneath the cool exterior, Lex thought the superhero thing was just as cool as everyone else.

That was another confusing thing. Clark liked to think he was a good judge of character, which probably wasn’t true, but he knew he was good at spotting the evil ones. Years of practice in Smallville makes perfect, after all. And Clark hadn’t gotten any “criminal mastermind” vibes when he was talking to Lex. To the contrary, Clark had been getting “please rip off my clothes and have sex with me right now” vibes, though that may have just been Clark projecting. And, on top of him being sex personified, Clark had actually _liked_ Lex. The only reason he hadn’t made a move before Lex started his attempt to win the Guinness World Record for Most Evil Plots Hatched by a Single Person, is Clark had been debating the benefits of approaching him as Superman, which would have been faster, but with less chance into developing into something real, or as Clark Kent, which would be harder, but better in the long run. And now Lex was on his supervillain kick, and Clark was pissed at himself for still not having learned to not procrastinate on this kind of stuff.

The strangest thing, though, was the plans themselves. Not that they weren’t good plots, provided they were perfectly executed, but they just didn’t make sense. Sure a weather machine in the middle of Kansas farmland, which is essentially where Metropolis was situated for some inexplicable reason, would be good for extorting money out of farmers, but why would the CEO of a multinational company worth billions of dollars need that kind of money? Plus there were all the obvious weak spots in the plans that Clark was pretty easily able to exploit in order to stop Lex. And they were completely ostentatious, so that they always caught Clark’s attention before anything worse than minor collateral damage was done. Collateral damage that LexCorp always paid to fix. In fact, Clark might have thought the whole thing was an elaborate bid for good PR if it wasn’t completely obvious to everyone, if not legally provable, that Lex was doing all these “evil” things.

All of which brought Clark here, flying through the air above LexCorp tower, thoroughly confused and dodging some sort of laser gun Lex had. Clark thought he had heard Lex call it a death ray, but that seemed a little too comic book-y even by Lex’s standards. Then again, that pigeon that had stupidly flown into the cross-fire was definitely dead, so maybe it really was a death ray. Luckily, it, whatever _it_ was, was similar to most other weapons in that it didn’t work on a yellow sun charged Kryptonians. This was something that Clark learned when he misjudged the angle of the gun and flew right into the shot instead of out of it.

Genuinely angry now – Lex had just _shot_ him – Clark sped down to the rooftop where Lex had dropped his gun and was throwing out obscenities left and right. Clark touched down, but before he could get into a lecture about how you do not shoot people, Lex was yelling at him.

“What the hell were you doing up there? You could have died!”

“What.” Apparently Kryptonians lose the ability to properly form a question when adequately shocked and confused. Go figure.

“You flew right into the path of the death ray” – so Clark _had_ heard him correctly – “and if it weren’t for the fact that this thing seems to only work on lab rats and pigeons you would be dead right now,” Lex admonished him.

“But I thought you wanted to kill me,” Clark said tentatively. Because, between the “alien scum” epithets and the _death rays,_ that was kind of the impression Clark had been getting.

“Of course I want to kill you,” Lex told him. “That doesn’t mean you’re actually supposed to die.”

“What,” Clark said. He really needed to figure out where his question marks had run off to.

Lex sighed, and then explained, in a tone that suggested he thought Clark was a very small child. Or just particularly stupid. “You are a superhero. I am your arch-nemesis. As such I want to kill you, but you are supposed to beat me whenever I try.”

That made it sound like Lex was trying to play cops and robbers with him, or superheroes and supervillains rather. And _that_ sounded vaguely kinky and definitely like something Clark could be up for, but Lex seemed so earnest about his desire to kill Superman that Clark wasn’t entirely sure he was playing. But if Lex wasn’t playing, then what was with him setting himself up as Clark nemesis anyway?

“Why?” Clark asked, which wasn’t the most articulate he had ever been, but hey, at least it actually came out as a question this time.

“Because you’re the good guy,” Lex said impatiently, which wasn’t what Clark had been asking or even a particularly helpful answer if he had been.

“No, why are you my arch-nemesis?” Clark clarified.

“Because you keep thwarting my evil plans.” Clark wondered if he could maybe shake some clear answers out of Lex. It would probably be more effective than asking was proving.

“But the fact that you didn’t actually have any evil plans before I showed up would imply that you had a specific reason for wanting to be my arch-nemesis,” Clark said, deciding he would try the logic tack before he went to physical violence.

This was apparently the prompt Lex had been waiting for, as he stood up straighter and even preened a little bit. “You’re right Superman; I do have more personal reasons for my hatred of you. You see, as soon as you showed up I started doing a little research on you.” Clark’s eye twitched. Technically the point of the whole Superman thing was so that he didn’t have to hide anything from people who might be interested in his powers or abilities, but that knowledge did little to affect his Pavlovian response to the word research. “You being an alien immediately put me in mind of the meteor shower in Smallville in 1989. These suspicions were confirmed when I found out about Clark Kent, the adopted son of the Kents of which there is no record of prior to the meteor shower, and who shows up in an alarming number of police reports.”

“You know my secret identity?” Clark exclaimed in disbelief.

“You really should get a better disguise,” Lex told him, looking mildly pissed that Clark would interrupt him for something that he clearly deemed unimportant.

“But what are you going to do with that information?” Clark pressed. Just because Lex didn’t think it was important, that didn’t mean Clark did.

“Nothing,” was Lex’s automatic response, which, after a few seconds thought, he amended to, “I’ll probably kidnap Lois Lane at some point.”

Clark heaved a sigh of relief. Lois got kidnapped or put into some other form of jeopardy just about every Friday anyway. At least Lex didn’t seem like he would actually hurt her. “Okay then,” Clark said. “You were saying?”

Lex glared, as though making sure Clark wouldn’t try to interrupt him again, something about which Clark was making no promises, before continuing. “On the day your ship came down to Earth I was in Smallville and got caught up in the meteor shower.”

“You and everyone else in Kansas,” Clark muttered. Lex shot him a look and Clark apologized, but seriously, the number of people who “just happened” to be in Smallville on the day of the meteor shower was currently teetering on the border between ridiculously excessive and physically impossible. Plus, once the guilt wore off, the whole “I’m also a meteor mutant” thing started to get really old, really fast.

Still, Clark wondered what kind of power Lex had gotten. He would guess super-sexiness, except that hardly seemed like the kind of thing someone would be upset over.

“If you’re done interrupting me,” Lex drawled and Clark _still_ wasn’t making any promises on that one because he did have a tendency of just blurting things out. “During the shower one of the meteors almost landed on my head and a side-effect of the radiation has left me bald to this day.”

Clark bit back his initial response, which was something along the lines of an incredulous “that’s it?” and decided to save his second thought “bald is a really good look for you,” for later, before settling on a contrite, if a bit confused, “Sorry?”

“It’s too late for that Superman,” Lex said, which was totally unfair since up until about ten second ago Clark had just assumed Lex shaved his head or something. “It’s your fault that I lost my hair, which makes all torture I went through at school for being ‘the bald kid’ your fault, and as such I’ve sworn my vengeance.”

Clark gave Lex a long look. Considered x-raying his brain, but discarded the idea as unhelpful since Clark’s knowledge of neurology was limited to one college class he had taken on human anatomy. Considered x-raying through his clothes, but discarded the idea as an invasion of privacy and, more importantly, far too distracting. Considered the high incidence of insanity in meteor mutants. Decided that yes, Lex was crazy and, additionally, that crazy was a good look for him.

“So to be clear,” Clark said, “you want to kill me, but not really-“

“No,” Lex corrected, “I really do want to kill you, I just have no expectations of success.” God that was confusing. Clark fucking hated doublethink

“Okay,” agreed Clark, more so he could stop thinking about it than because he really understood it. “And the reason you want me dead is revenge for the fact that when I was a toddler my spaceship, which I had no control over because, I reiterate, I was a toddler, crash landed near you and made you go bald.” And because Lex was probably a bit obsessed with comic books, but Clark kept that tidbit to himself since it would likely be detrimental to Clark’s seduction plan. A plan that was so back on now that Clark was sure that Lex wasn’t actually evil, just confused. Or maybe just confusing. One of the two at any rate.

“Correct,” Lex said.

“Okay, then I have one more question for you,” Clark told him.

“Go ahead,” Lex sighed, sounding eminently indulgent.

Back when Clark had been a freshman in college, and still new to the whole gay thing, he had complained to his roommate Adam about his failure to get some guy or other to notice him. Adam had looked him in the eye and said “Clark, excessive brooding aside, you’re a good guy, but you do interested like other people do mixed signals. My advice is to be subtle as a MAC truck and that’s what’s gonna work for you.” It was with this in mind that Clark asked his next question:

“Does this arch-nemesis thing in any way preclude us from having sex?”

Given Lex’s recent and very vocal claims of his desire to kill Clark, Clark was fully expecting to be turned down. As such, he was already planning out some heavy-handed flirting for Lex’s next evil plot. It was undoubtedly due to this distraction that when Lex launched himself at Clark, Clark went down like a ton of bricks. He had a brief moment to wonder if Lex was actually a good deal straighter than Clark had initially thought, given the violent nature of his reaction to being hit on by another man, before Lex was kissing him and Clark suddenly didn’t have enough blood left in his brain to wonder anything at all.

Lex kissed like Clark was a foreign country he was trying to conquer, which was sounding really good to Clark right about now. Clark wasn’t exactly sure how long they had been lying on the roof of LexCorp kissing before Lex pulled away, other than a strong conviction that it wasn’t long enough. At least, until Lex leaned back down to growl in Clark’s ear “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t see straight.” At that point Clark lost any grasp of time or anything at all but Lex writhing on top of him and making good use of his mouth to colonize Clark’s neck.

Clark fucking loved doublethink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel it's important to note that Lex swearing vengeance on Superman because Superman is accidentally responsible for Lex being bald was not _my_ idea, but real comic book canon. Yay for canon!crack!


	2. Love Redeems, or Something Really Cheesy Like That

There was nothing quite so nice, Clark decided, as waking up to having your chest being used as a pillow by your arch-nemesis (Lex’s words) slash lover (Clark’s words) and knowing that you had absolutely nothing that you needed to do for the rest of the day. Glancing over at the clock on the bedside tabled revealed it to already be after ten in the morning, which only made the whole thing even more ridiculously decadent.

Clark let his hand rest on Lex’s back and idly run up and down along the other man’s spine. Clark had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to do with his free day, but for the moment he was content just to watch Lex sleep. Lex claimed that this habit of Clark’s was creepy, but Chloe, when appealed to, had assured Clark it was more or less normal. Plus, Clark had totally woken up to catch Lex staring at him a couple of times. Lex insisted that as a supervillain he was _supposed_ to be creepy, but Clark just found that assertion ridiculously adorable. Of course _that_ might actually be weird.

Normal was overrated anyway.

Clark might not have been trying to wake Lex up, but he had still succeeded in doing so, if the pleased sort of purring sound coming from Lex was any measure. Not that Lex would ever admit to purring, but Clark was more than happy to admit to it for him.

“Good morning,” Clark said, increasing the pressure behind his hand until it was moving in a lazy sort of massage. Lex let out a low moan and Clark grinned. “If you don’t have anything planned for the day” – and Clark really hoped he didn’t, since there was a definite correlation between the times Clark had convinced Lex that whatever he had to do could wait until later and Lex’s more mean-spirited plots – “then I was thinking we could just not get out of bed today.”

Lex didn’t respond right away. Clark was sure that was a bad sign, a suspicion that was confirmed a few seconds later when Lex pulled away and sat up, saying “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Clark asked, breaking out the pout that never failed to get Lex to bite his bottom lip, not even when Lex was in full villain mode. A whole day in bed with Lex was so worth getting shoot at with another Kryptonite laser or three.

But it seemed that there really was a first time for everything, because Lex looked at Clark like he’d like nothing better than to molest his mouth, but he didn’t bite, not figuratively or literally. Instead he turned away and said, “This isn’t working, Clark.”

Clark refrained from pointing out that if it was working then they would be having sex right now. Somehow he didn’t think that was what Lex was talking about anyway. “What isn’t working?” he asked.

“ _This_ ,” Lex responded, as though the emphasis would suddenly make everything clear. He didn’t turn his gaze from the wall as he said it. “This. You, me. Us.”

Which sounded like – but Clark wasn’t even going to _think_ about what it sounded like, because that couldn’t be happening. Propositioning Lex on that rooftop all those months ago was, Clark was certain, the best decision he had ever made in his _life_ and so this couldn’t be happening because Clark wouldn’t let it happen.

“Did I – is it something I did?” Heaven knew that Clark wasn’t the best boyfriend and sometimes the being arch-nemeses and lovers thing was confusing for him, but if this was something he could fix, he would.

Clark didn’t know if it was his words or his tone that caught Lex’s attention, but either way, that blue-eyed stare was all on Clark now, expression something of horror and concern. “God, no. Christ, Clark you – you’re perfect,” Lex assured, punctuating the statement with a kiss.

Undoubtedly Lex had meant it to be a perfunctory kiss, a simple press of lips to reinforce the “it’s not you, it’s me” sentiment in his words. But Lex might be trying to _leave_ him right now, and this kiss had to be perfect. So Clark grabbed Lex’s face and poured everything into it. All the desperation and hunger and _need_ – and God, how was it possible that Clark hadn’t realized until just this moment how much he needed Lex?

Lex graciously took all that Clark offered and paid it back with gentleness and comfort. It was better than the cool distance Clark had been half expecting, but it wasn’t the fire he had wanted either. Reluctantly, Clark let go and let Lex pull away.

“Absolutely perfect,” Lex said, echoing his earlier statement. “That’s why this can’t work.”

Clark almost – _almost_ – groaned.  He held back because he knew that Lex was serious, and he knew Lex really would break-up with him if Clark couldn’t talk him down from his latest crazy, but it was a near thing. Lex trying to end things between them because he thought Clark was perfect, aside from being completely nonsensical, could only be due to one of two things. Either Lex’s insecurities and self-esteem issues were getting to him again, or this was more of Lex’s doublethink/arch-enemies thing.

Clark really hoped it was the self-esteem.

“Could you please explain to me how you’re getting from point A to B here?” requested Clark. “Because I’m not following.”

“I’m your arch-nemesis,” Lex said, and oh God it _was_ the doublethink thing. It was way too early to deal with doublethink, any time this side of noon and breakfast was too early for doublethink. “As such I have to be able to hate you, and genuinely want to kill you. Us being together is making that too difficult.”

“And you couldn’t have figured that out months ago?” Clark said grumpily. Whoever said that thing about it being better to have loved and lost was a moron. “Why do you even need to want to kill me anyway?”

“I just said, because I’m your arch-nemesis,” Lex responded, tone completely even and reasonable.

“Well, why are you my arch-nemesis?” Clark rebutted.

“Because it’s your fault I’m bald.” Lex was starting to sound a little testy now. “We’ve been over all this before.”

They have been over it before, a million times, and Clark still hasn’t gotten a satisfactory answer. He felt like a rat in a maze, except Lex’s mind games keep changing the walls around. There has to be a reason, a real reason, why Lex decided on this arch-nemesis course of action, because no one likes comics that much. And even if Clark did believe that’s why Lex started this, _no one_ decides to end things with someone they think is perfect for that reason. There is something more going on here, and Clark was starting to think he could run around in circles forever and still not get it.

“This is so stupid,” Clark announced. Belligerent and petulant as hell, yes, but Clark’s boyfriend was trying to break up with him because said boyfriend liked him enough to not want to kill him. This did not a happy Clark make.

“You’re being unreasonable,” Lex told him.

“Of course, I’m being unreasonable. You want us to stop seeing each other because you think it’s interfering with your ability to be evil.”

“Well, excuse me if I’m having a hard time trying to kill someone I’m in love with,” Lex snapped.

 They both froze. Slowly, what must have been the world’s goofiest grin spread across Clark’s face. “You’re in love with me?”

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Lex answered.

“But you’re in love with me,” pressed Clark.

“It really has no bearing on this conversation.”

“But you’re in love with me.”

“Yes, fine,” Lex said waspishly. “I’m in love with you. Happy?”

“Immensely,” Clark told him. Then, to prove his point he kissed Lex on the nose. Lex scowled, which was just about the cutest thing. There was definitely more nose-kissing in his future.

“And,” Clark added, inspiration striking suddenly, “I think you’re wrong. About the arch-nemesis thing that is.”

Lex’s scowled deepened. He really didn’t like being told he was wrong about… well anything really. “How so?”

“I don’t think you’re my arch-nemesis at all. I think you’re my… uh… rival.” Superheroes had rivals right? Man, Clark really should have read more of Lex’s Warrior Angel comics.

“I am not your rival. That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Why not?” Clark said plaintively. He had thought it was a really good idea. A really good idea that allowed Clark to work with the crazy, rather than through it.

“To be rivals we’d have to be competing for something,” Lex explained. “We have to have the same goal.”

And it probably had to be a superhero-related one too, so their goal of having sex in every room of the penthouse wouldn’t count. Not to mention that was more of a joint effort than a competition. Damn.

“We both want to help people?” Clark suggested. That could be a completion, right? Who can help the most people, or help people more?

Lex looked at him in askance. “I have two goals, Clark, and neither of them is to ‘help people.’ The first is to be a better man than my father, both morally and success-wise, and the second is to use my evil plots to take over the world and kill Superman.”

Admittedly Clark had never actually met Lionel, but he was at least ninety percent sure that those goals weren’t actually mutually compatible. But the point of this whole thing was to convince Lex not to break up with him without trying to deal with the doublethink stuff, so Clark decided to let that one go.

“But you do help people. LexCorp does all kinds of good stuff,” Clark insisted.

“Mere by-products of what I’m actually trying to achieve,” Lex said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Besides I’m evil. The rival can, and really should, be morally ambiguous, but he can’t be evil.”

“You aren’t evil,” Clark told him. Clark firmly believed this, even taking the evil plots into account.

“I built a death ray,” Lex said flatly.

“Nobody knows about that but me, you, and that pigeon,” Clark rejoined. And the pigeon was dead, so it wasn’t saying anything even pigeons could talk. Which they couldn’t. Probably. “You are not evil.”

“The people of Australia would probably disagree with you,” said Lex. Man, Clark had totally forgotten about that plot, likely because it had made even less sense than most of them. And Lex had refused to elaborate on it beyond it being “tradition” so Clark was still in the dark.

“Okay, so you’re a villain,” Clark conceded. He still didn’t believe it really, but Lex could almost certainly come up with examples of his “evilness” all day and that’s not really how Clark envisioned their day in bed together. Time to change tactics. “But you could be a redeemed villain.”

“Redeemed?” Lex repeated, sounding vaguely amused.

“Yeah,” Clark enthused. This reasoning was much better than the rival thing, especially since it was almost true. “You were a horrible evil villain, and then the power of love redeemed you.”

Clark saw the emotions in Lex’s eyes shutter close, saw his body stiffen, but he had no clue what had caused it. No clue, other than the certain knowledge that he had tripped over one of Lex’s self-esteem issues again, and fuck Lionel Luthor anyway.

“No,” said Lex. “Absolutely not.”

“What’s wrong?” Clark asked cautiously. Lex didn’t say anything, just sat, jaw clenched and staring at the wall. Clark reached out a hand and tried to place it on Lex’s shoulder, but the other man yanked away.

“Lex, come on,” pleaded Clark. “I need you to talk to me.”

“No, you are not using that against me. I shouldn’t have even said it; I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Using it against you? Lex, what are you – oh shit.” Shit, shit, shit. If Lionel wasn’t roasting in Hell this very second, then Clark was going to have Very Serious Words with someone. “I’m not trying to use the fact that you love me against you.”

“Really?” Lex said incredulously. “Does ‘the power of love redeemed you’ ring any bells?”

“What I meant when I said that was the power of _my_ love redeemed you.” Lex’s defenses were still miles high, but he softened just a little, let just a little hope peek out of the corners of his eyes.

“I love you, Lex,” Clark said very clearly, so he couldn’t possibly be misunderstood. “I love you so much when you said you wanted to end this I nearly had a panic attack. I love you so much I bullshitted comic book knowledge to come up with an excuse why you didn’t need to leave. I. Love. You. Okay?”

By the end of Clark’s speech Lex had collapsed n on himself, anger and doubt and relief draining him. Clark gathered Lex up in his arms and pulled him to his chest. When Lex didn’t protest, Clark started rocking slowly and whispering comforting words in his ears.

“You can’t leave me,” Lex said, not a little brokenly.

“You were the one trying to break up with me remember?” said Clark wryly.

“I’m serious Clark,” Lex protested, turning to look Clark in the eye. “If you do… fucking Australia won’t know what hit it.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Clark replied with an eye-roll. Then, more seriously, “I’m not going to leave you. Panic attacks and fake comic book knowledge, remember?”

“Good,” Lex said fiercely. Then, hand in Clark’s hair, Lex yanked him down for a kiss. It was very nearly a reflection of the one earlier, Lex all desperate need and Clark gentle comfort. Though the gentle part might be a lost cause if Lex kept doing that thing with his tongue.

Regrettably, Lex did _not_ keep doing that thing with his tongue, instead breaking the kiss to say, “That’s not what we’re telling people.”

“What’s not?” That Clark loved Lex? Because Clark fully intended on telling that to as many people as possible.

“That you redeemed me with the power of your love. That’s ridiculously cheesy and Luthors don’t do cheesy.” Clark had a few memories of Lex that would beg to differ, but he figured he could let Lex have this one.

“We can tell them whatever you want,” Clark assured him.

“We’ll start working on that first thing tomorrow then,” Lex decided.

“Tomorrow?” asked Clark.

Lex gave the little smirk that was pure sex and _shifted_ – and wow, they were both still naked. “I believe you had us booked for the day.”


	3. It's a One-Two Step, But Forward and Back is Anybody's Guess

Lex Luthor was a greedy man.

No, strike that; it wasn’t quite right. Because, honestly, there weren’t that many things that Lex wanted. He had a lot of things, because what was the point in having money if you didn’t buy stuff with it, and he liked having them, because what was the point in buying stuff if you didn’t enjoy it, but he didn’t really _need_ most of it.

Lex Luthor was a possessive man.

There, much better.

Luckily, for his sanity’s sake if nothing else, there were only three things that really triggered that possessive urge in him. The first was the watch his mother gave him shortly before she died. The watch itself was worth a reasonable amount of money, but its true value for Lex lay in its sentimentality. His mother, for all her faults – faults that Lex was getting much better at acknowledging – really had loved him. And for a number of dark years that watch was the only thing that served to remind Lex that he wasn’t a fundamentally unlovable person.

The second was his Warrior Angel collection. If his mother’s watch was Lex’s replacement for love, then his comics were his surrogate hope and moral compass. Being raised by Lionel Luthor was a tricky business, and it would have been so easy for Lex to lose sight of his humanity and compassion. Warrior Angel reminded him that there were people out there, even if they were only fictional people, that were genuinely kind, and could live their lives without being ruthless and cold-hearted.

The third of these things was Clark Kent. And this was what was giving Lex trouble.

Or, at least, he thought that the trouble was Clark-related.  He wasn’t exactly sure what the problem was, and was only making it worse. All he was sure of was that there was something that was making Lex unhappy, and that whatever it was made him want to chain Clark to the bed again, but not untie him this time. Lex didn’t think too hard about the fact that Clark could still escape if he wanted to; super-strength was damn inconvenient sometimes.

Still, Lex could figure this out. He was a scientist first and foremost – no, first and foremost was probably something to do with Clark. And businessman was probably up there too, and he wanted to get into politics at some point… scientist was definitely top five at any rate. And as such, Lex could do some research, perform tests and gather evidence, and get to the bottom of this.

***

The first possibility Lex considered was that it was Clark himself causing the problem. Nothing puts a damper on possessiveness quite like the object of your possession objecting to the ownership. Clark loved Lex, and Clark was in a relationship with Lex, but that didn’t mean that Clark understood that he belonged to Lex. Of course, Lex belonged to Clark too, which was, Lex was given to understand, a fair trade.

Clark was, at the present moment, in the bathroom going through his morning routine. In fact, if Lex got right on the edge of the bed and leaned a little he could see Clark standing at the bathroom counter, wearing nothing but snarled hair that was far more attractive than bed-head had any right to be, and a pair of flannel pajama pants that hung just low enough to confirm that Clark really wasn’t wearing anything else. He was brushing his teeth using his own toothbrush which had, along with a large number of Clark’s other belongings, migrated from Clark’s apartment to Lex’s penthouse. This was due in part to Clark’s efforts, and in part to the efforts of the people that Lex had hired to go into Clark’s apartment while Clark was out and transfer miscellanea to Lex’s place. Clark had not, as of yet, noticed this, or hadn’t said anything if he had noticed. Either way, Lex certainly wasn’t stopping until Clark lodged a formal complaint. Filled out in paper, in triplicate. Just to make sure things were clear.

Deciding that now was a good time to test this first theory, Lex, wearing even less than Clark, got out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. Clark grinned at him in the mirror, but didn’t stop brushing, even when Lex came up right behind him and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist. So Lex leaned forward, placed his lips on Clark’s pulse point, and bit, hard enough to break anyone else’s skin. Clark, though, just moaned and arched back into the touch. A satisfying reaction to be sure, but not one that answered Lex’s question. Lex made his way up the side of Clark’s neck, trailing nips and kisses the whole way, and said, breath tickling across Clark’s ear, “Mine.”

With a suddenness that would make him suspect teleportation if he didn’t know better, Lex found himself sitting on the bathroom counter with an armful of warm, naked Clark pressed up against him and doing absolutely obscene things with his mouth. The overwhelming taste of mint made it quickly apparent that, while Clark had spit out the excess toothpaste, he hadn’t bothered to take the time to rinse his mouth out. Not that Lex minded. Nor was he particularly worried about the ripping sound he thought he had heard. If Clark had torn his pants off, then Lex would just buy him a new pair. Lex would buy him a hundred new pairs, because Clark? Definitely not the problem.

Well, he _probably_ wasn’t the problem. But really, Lex should run the test a couple more times. You know, just to be sure.

***

Lex glanced surreptitiously at his watch, trying to gauge how much longer until he could leave this charity gala without seeming rude. These things were always horribly boring, even more so when Clark had work, or _work,_ that prevented him from coming and keeping Lex company.

“Well if it isn’t the illustrious Lex Luthor,” commented a bright voice.

Lex turned to find himself regarding a blonde woman with a press pass and a mischievous smile. There was a brief moment of confusion while Lex tried to figure out why, exactly, some random Gotham reporter would look so familiar to him, before he recognized her as Chloe Sullivan, Clark’s “best friend and I really think you’d like her Lex.” Given that she had apparently lusted after _his_ Clark for all of their high school years, Lex privately doubted that. Not that that was any reason not to be polite.

“Ms. Sullivan, good to meet you,” he said, offering his hand for her to shake.

“It’s just Chloe,” she replied, with a little hitch in her voice that made Lex suspect that she was laughing at him. It lacked the mocking edge that he was accustomed to, though. Then she completely ignored his proffered hand and _hugged_ him, getting right into his personal space that no one was allowed in except for Clark, thank you very much.

But it was kind of… nice. Lex got the distinct impression that she wasn’t hugging him for any other reason than that she _wanted_ to. Which was distinctly strange, as Lex was still adjusting to the idea that _Clark_ could like Lex for himself, and Clark liked everyone.

“Clark talks about you all the time. Moons over you really,” she told Lex. Clark mooned over him? Lex could get used to the idea of being mooned over. “It’s so good to finally get a chance to actually meet you.”

“It is?” Lex asked in faint surprise. Much like with the hug, Chloe sounded like she really meant what she was saying. Was everyone from Smallville this genuine?

“Of course,” she replied. “I‘ll be honest, I was a little wary when Clark first told me he was seeing you, and I still don’t entirely understand that whole superhero-supervillain thing the two of you were doing, but you seem to make Clark happy. And that’s the important thing, right?

“Absolutely,” Lex said. Clark’s happiness was the most important thing, with everything else taking a distant second.

“I feel it’s only far to warn you though, if you hurt him, then I will be very angry. And I can be a scary person to have mad at you.”

Lex took in Chloe’s petite five foot five frame and the manic gleam in her eye before honestly saying, “I’m sure you’d be terrifying.”

She laughed. “You know, I have it on good authority that even Superman is afraid of me when I’m pissed,” said Chloe, winking at him.

Dammit, Clark was right; Lex did like her. And Clark was probably right about Lex liking his other friends too. Except for Lois, Lex refused to believe that he could possibly like Lois Lane. On the bright side, at least now Lex could cross Clark’s friends off his list of potential problems.

***

Lex was watching the news.

He was trying to explore the possibility that the problem was related to Clark being Superman, though Lex didn’t think it was likely. Clark had a job – well, technically he had two jobs, and the Superman thing was more like volunteer work than an actual job, but that wasn’t the point. Clark had a job, and yes, it sometimes took up more time than Lex liked and involved odd hours, but that’s what jobs were like in Lex’s experience.

On the other hand, comic book love interests had been known to complain about having to “share their significant other with the world.” Not that Lex was a love interest; he was _Lex Luthor_ , not a stock character made to fill out the romantic quota of a story. But again, that wasn’t the point, the sharing with the world thing was. Of course, Lex didn’t really understand that either. “The world” hadn’t had sex with Clark in every room of the penthouse. Clark hadn’t made “the world” apple pie with his mother’s recipe. And “the world” certainly didn’t get any of Lex’s new favorite Clark-and-toothpaste flavored kisses. (Incidentally, brushing his teeth had become a disturbingly erotic activity for Lex as of late.) But far be it for Lex to discount a possibility just because it didn’t sound right.

So Lex was, as previously stated, watching the news.

Or, to be more specific, he was watching a number of different clips of news stories featuring Superman, to see if any of them could stir up a possessive sense of rage. He was even, to maximize the possibility of a reaction, focusing on clips that featured a lot of interaction between Superman and the general populace, and events that had called Clark away when the two of them were supposed to be spending time together.

He had been watching for an hour and not feeling anything worse than a twinge of annoyance when that one reporter had checked out Superman’s ass, completely unprofessionally Lex might add, when Clark walked in the room.

Clark groaned at the sight of himself on the T.V. and asked, “Can you turn that off?”

“Of course,” Lex replied, doing just that. It’s not like it had been getting him anywhere after all. “Embarrassed to see yourself on camera?”

“Not that exactly,” Clark said, though his cheeks did flush a rosy tint that made Lex want to molest him. Really, it was a good thing that Lex had such self-control, or neither of them would ever get anything done. “It’s just a little much sometimes. Back in Smallville it was easy: stop the meteor mutant, maybe give a statement to the sheriff or answer a few questions for Chloe, and then go home. Now I have to deal with all sorts of people who want to thank me or ask me questions or whatever. Don’t get me wrong, the gratitude is nice, but I’d rather just not have to deal with it all a lot of the time.”

“Makes sense,” Lex replied, though he didn’t really understand it per se. He lived to be the center of attention, and couldn’t quite grasp the concept of not wanting everyone’s focus, but he supposed it did make sense in the abstract.

“Maybe I should just go back to rescuing in the shadows,” Clark said, somewhat jokingly. “Get in, get out and then I can come back home.” – and Lex certainly noticed the way Clark referred to the penthouse as home, but he wasn’t going to mention it, just in case – “I could get even some tips from Batman.”

Lex scoffed. “Bruce Wayne is a disturbed individual that you should in no way aspire to be like.” But he was smiling as he said it. Because those insipid comic book women were wrong, and Lex was right. And Lex loved being right.

***

“… and so hopefully Parasite will stay in prison this time,” Clark concluded, punctuating it with a swirl of the spoon through the pasta sauce he was cooking.

“That’s nice,” Lex said, not looking up from the carrots he was chopping.

“Something wrong?” Clark asked. “Usually you love hearing Superman stories.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Lex replied tightly.

“Lex are you – are you jealous?” Clark asked, head tilted to the side making him look even more like an over-grown puppy than usual.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Lex. What did Lex have to be jealous of? Parasite was a moron.

“Really?” Clark said incredulously. “Because those carrots would beg to differ.” Lex looked down at his chopped carrots and decided that maybe minced was the more appropriate term. Sighing with annoyance, Lex swiped them into the salad bowl and picked up a tomato.

“Parasite is a former janitor, current mauve... thing. Why would I be jealous of him?” Lex objected, viciously slicing into the tomato.

“You’re jealous of Parasite?” said Clark, surprised. “Why would – whoa there, Lex, maybe you should put the knife down.”

Lex had no intention of doing any such thing; Lex was busy cutting up this tomato and doing just fine, thank you. The decision was taken out of his hands however, quite literally, when Clark grabbed the knife from him and set it down on the counter.

“Hey, c’mere,” Clark said, and suddenly Lex found himself engulfed in a pair of warm, strong arms. He reacted instinctively, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of newspaper print and sunshine. Slowly Lex felt himself relaxing.

“Better?” Clark asked, presumably rhetorically since Lex was certain that a situation that couldn’t be improved by being held by Clark didn’t actually exist. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

No, because there wasn’t anything wrong; Lex just really hated Parasite. And Livewire. And the Toyman. And don’t even get him started on Brainiac. And…

Oh. Well that would explain it.

Lex pulled back just far enough to look Clark in the eye and said, “I want to be a supervillain again.”

Clark’s arms tightened around him. Not to the point of pain, Clark had too much control even subconsciously for that, but it was a near thing. He wasn’t panicking, or right on the verge of it, but the potential for it was there. “I thought you said you didn’t want to do that anymore.”

“I did,” Lex replied calmly, “but I’m allowed to change my mind.”

“I thought you said it was too hard for you to try to kill someone you were in love with,” Clark said, his voice very small.

Shit. In Clark’s shoes Lex would probably be panicking too.

Well, he’d actually be planning the Earth’s impending doom, starting with those smug Australian bastards, but everyone had their own ways of coping.

“And I do love you too much to actually want to kill you, but I could still pretend,” Lex told him. Though really, he wasn’t doing it properly if he was just pretending, rather than actually feeling the emotions. Normally Lex wouldn’t bother if he couldn’t do it right, but priorities change.

Clark heaved in a deep breath and, letting it out, loosened his grip to a more normal pressure. “And how is that different, exactly?”

“Before I was getting myself into a mindset where I genuinely hated you and wanted to kill you. Now I would just be acting like I felt that way,” Lex explained. But he could tell that Clark still didn’t get it, so he just shook his head and said, “It’s different, just trust me.”

“If you say so,” Clark agreed slowly. “And what brought this on?”

“You’re _my_ arch-nemesis,” Lex told him fiercely. Clark grinned in response, the “you are too cute for words” grin, and – wait for it – kissed Lex on the nose. Lex scowled. Clark grin grew.

“I love you,” Clark informed him brightly.

Lex rested his head on Clark’s shoulder. “I love you too,” he said. “And mauve is a stupid color.”

“Mmm,” Clark hummed in agreement. “Personally I prefer purple.”

And that was just perfect really. Lex placed a gentle kiss on Clark’s jaw. “Mine.”

“Yes,” Clark agreed. “Yours.”


	4. Ready, Aim, And I Dare You to Fire

The absolute worst thing about having a secret identity, and you could quote Clark on this (or rather, you could quote Superman, because of course Clark Kent doesn’t know anything about having a secret identity), was not being able to use your powers even when they would really come in handy.

Like right now for example. This guy who was trying to mug him and Lex would have gone down like a ton of bricks if Clark could have just used a bit of his super-speed and super-strength. Or even just one or the other, Clark wasn’t picky.

Not that Clark was worried exactly. As long as they cooperated and just gave him their wallets, there shouldn’t really be a problem. Lex could have their credit cards cancelled and get new ones within the hour, though the driver’s licenses might take a day or two. Clark only had five dollars in cash on him and, while he didn’t know how much Lex might have, but he did know that it was basically physically impossible for Lex to carry enough cash that the loss of it would actually be noticeable, so no worries there either.  The guy had a gun, of course, but he was keeping it mostly trained on Clark, who was the more physically intimidating of the two of them even without the powers, so even if things did go south, Clark was probably the one who would actually get shot. But really, all Clark and Lex had to was play along, and they’d get out of here not much the worse for wear.

“No.”

Of course, what possessed Clark to think that Lex could make this _easy_ , he didn’t know.

“What do you mean ‘no?’” asked the mugger incredulously. Apparently he wasn’t used to his victims flat-out refusing to be mugged.

“I mean, no, we aren’t going to give you our wallets, no, you aren’t going to shoot us, and no, this,” said Lex, gesturing his hand to indicate the whole situation, “isn’t going to happen.”

“I don’t think you understand. I have a gun,” the mugger said, waving the weapon around in a manner that couldn’t possibly comply with gun safety rules. “So I’m in control here.” Then he pointed the gun squarely at Lex’s chest. Clark was Not Happy about this at all, but he still wasn’t particularly worried. Worst case scenario, Clark could reach out and grab the bullet before it hit Lex.

“Yes, but I have lawyers,” Lex replied. “So I win.” In the long run this was true – Clark had seen Lex’s lawyers and they were _scary_ – but right here and now Lex’s lawyers would do nothing to keep this guy from pulling the trigger. And Clark really didn’t want to have to come up with some stupid lie about missing at point blank range or suits made of high tech Kevlar-type material.

“Lex,” Clark began, trying to figure out what in the world he could possibly say to convince his control freak boyfriend to just let it go.

It was not to be however. “Quiet Clark, I’m handling this,” Lex said.

Clark sighed, but did as he was told. Though there was only about a seventy percent chance that Lex was actually handling any given situation when he said he was, there was a hundred percent guarantee that anything Clark tried to do would make it worse.

The mugger’s eyes darted quickly back and forth between the two of them before his mouth spread wide in a shit-eating grin. “Well fuck me, it’s Lex Luthor. I hit the jackpot tonight.

“You see Clark, he’s a moron. I’m not going to let us get mugged by a moron.”

Clark just rolled his eyes, but the mugger looked pissed. “You know what Luthor? I’ve had enough of your bullshit. Maybe this will shut you up.” With that he took two steps forward and placed the barrel of the gun against Lex’s temple.

Clark panicked. His heart leaped up into his throat and began beating triple time. He couldn’t stop the bullet before it hit Lex with the gun right against his head like that. It was only the years of having that he had to hide his abilities drilled into him that kept him from grabbing Lex and getting the two of them out of there before the other guy could blink.

Lex, by contrast, was completely calm. “That’s really not a good idea,” he informed the mugger.

“You think so?” he replied. “Well I think I’d be doing the world a favor.”

“Superman would probably disagree,” Lex noted dryly.

Superman was about to rip this guy’s throat out and hadn’t already solely because it looked like Lex had control of this situation. That and his pesky morals, but those were becoming less important by the second.

The mugger laughed derisively. “You think I don’t watch the news? Superman would _thank_ me for getting you out of his way.”

“Funny you should mention the news,” Lex said conversationally. He could have been talking about the weather with a casual acquaintance for all the concern in his voice. “I saw an interesting story the other day. Some commonplace criminal, not unlike yourself, decided to try and kill Batman. He got lucky and almost pulled it off, too. The Joker wasn’t too pleased by that.” From the way the guy was looking a little green around the gills he had heard the story too. “That’s the thing about us supervillains and superheroes, we tend to get pretty possessive of our arch-nemeses. Jealous even.” Lex shot Clark a smirk as he said that, and in any other situation it would have been funny. Clark could even feel hysteria edged laughter welling up in him, but he pushed it down. “And the Joker is just a man. An insane and highly creative man I’ll grant you, but still just a man. I wonder what would happen if you managed to enrage a super-powered alien?”

The guy looked terrified for a few seconds, no doubt imaging exactly what a pissed off Kryptonian would do to him. Then he shook his head, throwing the images away. “Superman has all those ethics; worse he would do to me is turn me over to the cops.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Lex said, doubt dripping from every syllable. “But let me ask you a question Joe – can I call you Joe?”

“My name is Kyle,” the mugger snapped and Lex’s smirk grew into a full predatory grin. When – and Clark refused to acknowledge the existence of the word if at the moment – they got out of this, Kyle’s life was going to be systematically ruined, and Clark wasn’t going to do a thing to stop it.

 “Kyle, then,” agreed Lex. “Now tell me Kyle, have you ever killed anyone before?”

“Yeah,” Kyle replied, brash and full of bravado.

“I thought not. Well you certainly made a good choice for the first kill; a bullet straight to the forehead is hard to mess up. It’ll be messy though, blood and brain matter everywhere. Bone fragments too. The stains aren’t going to come out of your clothes, so you’ll always have something to remember your first kill by. Not that you’ll need a souvenir, you aren’t going to be forgetting me. If you’re lucky you’ll remember me like this, alive, but it’s far more likely that what you’ll see every time you close your eyes from now on is me lying on the pavement with my skull blown out. You never forget your first. Of course this isn’t just going to be your first; you’ll have to kill Clark too. And someone might hear the shots and come and investigate so that’s three or four total. All that blood on your hands; I do hope you’ll be able to get them clean afterwards.”

This whole grisly monologue was delivered in even, measured tones, and Lex never lost his composure for even a second. Kyle, who was much younger than Clark had realized at first, only nineteen or twenty, had gone a chalky white, every last hint of color fleeing his skin. Even his eyes looked a bit washed out, staring at nothing. Clark probably didn’t look much better, not after listening to descriptions of Lex with his head blown open.

“Or,” Lex said, and Kyle’s eyes locked on him like Lex was offering his salvation. “You could just leave. Clark and I won’t think any less of you, and no one else has to know. Just run away and put this whole thing behind you.”

For a moment nothing happened. Then Kyle, well, ran off like a frightened child wasn’t a very kind way to put it, but…

Within seconds Clark had Lex held tight in his arms, hands roving over Lex as though searching for imagined injuries. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he admonished.

Lex submitted to this with a gracious air, making it clear that he thought Clark was being melodramatic, but had no problems with taking advantage of it.

Once Clark had reassured himself that Lex really was okay, he asked a question that had been niggling at the back of his mind. “Lex, have you ever actually killed someone?”

“There was the pigeon I hit with my death ray,” Lex offered.

“I meant a person,” clarified Clark.

“No,” answered Lex. “But Devilicus has. I just extrapolated from there.”

Clark was pretty sure it didn’t work like that, but, taking in a deep breath, he let it go. The important thing was Lex hadn’t gotten hurt, Clark hadn’t gotten shot, and it looked like Kyle was off committing violent crimes for good. Plus, given all the “Superheroes and Supervillains” he and Lex had been playing lately – which turned out to be just as kinky as Clark originally suspected – whenever Lex acted like a villain it pretty much went straight to both their libidos, something that Clark’s body was reminding him of now that the gun was no longer pressed against Lex’s forehead. Combine that with the adrenaline and relief of a near-death experience, and they were going to be having some very good sex when they got home.

So, all-in-all, it really hadn’t been such a bad evening. 


	5. The Romance You Get is Inversely Proportional to the Romance You Give

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter. But such is life.
> 
> ~~Also, gay marriage isn't legal in Kansas? What is this nonsense of which you speak?~~ Edit June 26, 2015: Ha! Suck it, Kansas.

Clark liked symbols. This was, perhaps, self-evident, given the giant Not-An-S he wore on his chest on a regular basis. But Clark also liked symbolic gestures. So, when he decided he was going to propose to Lex, Clark needed to make sure it was special.

His first idea was to do it on the anniversary of their first date, if having sex on the roof counted as a “date.” Chloe and Bruce were both pretty insistent that it didn’t count, but Clark thought it did and that’s what mattered, right? (Dick – who must have eavesdropped on Clark’s conversation with Bruce, because there was no way that Clark would do something as stupid as talk about his sex life with Bruce’s thirteen year old son… and not remember it – also thought it counted. Clark tried not to feel too smug about this.) But just to be on the safe side, Clark also got reservation at the restaurant where they had had their first “real” date and was planning on making the actual proposal after dinner in the park where they been when Clark had finally pointed out to Lex that “sneaking” all of Clark’s stuff over to the penthouse would be a lot quicker if Lex just asked Clark to move in.

But when Clark had gotten out of the shower on the day of the big date, he had a message waiting for him on phone.  It was from Lex, cancelling because something urgent had come up with work. Clark had been disappointed, but it was hard to be mad at Lex when he was rambling on about how sorry he was for missing their anniversary – ha! Take that Bruce and Chloe – and about what an asshole he was.

For the second try, Clark thought he’d go the unique and quirky route. Lex loved his Warrior Angel comics, and was weirdly invested in the idea of Warrior Angel and Devilicus as a couple. So Clark pulled some strings, or, to be more accurate, he took shameless advantage of the strings Superman, Bruce and Oliver could pull, and got a special Warrior Angel comic made, just for Lex. The comic would have Warrior Angel and Devilicus get married, or engaged at least, and then Clark would be waiting with the ring when Lex finished reading it.

Unfortunately, Clark apparently hadn’t been specific enough about his desires, because the resulting comic wasn’t exactly what he had been looking for. Yeah, Warrior Angel and Devilicus got married, but in the “waking up naked and hung-over in Vegas” way. Or the Guardian Realm equivalent of Vegas anyway, and why the hell did the Guardian Realm even have an equivalent of Vegas? It was still a good story, very… eye-opening, – Clark got the distinct impression that the guy who had drawn it was also weirdly invested in Warrior Angel and Devilicus as a couple – but it wasn’t really the message Clark wanted to send while proposing. He’d save it for Lex’s birthday gift instead.

The third take was going to be something more intimate. Just Clark and Lex, because that was the way it should be. Clark went all out getting the bedroom set up, and then got ready to wait for Lex to come home.

There was a tsunami in Japan. Clark stumbled back in at around five-thirty in the morning, waterlogged and bone-tired. The candles, which Clark had been holding off on lighting until the last minute, were still pristine and the champagne was untouched, but the flower petals were starting to look wilted and the chocolate covered strawberries had definitely been nibbled on. Lex was passed out on the bed with the news on, having fallen asleep waiting for him.

Clark very distinctly thought “Fuck this,” and then everything went grey around the edges. With any luck, he had managed to take off the suit and make it to the bed before exhaustion overtook him.

***

“Clark. Clark, wake up,” a voice called, while someone shook at him insistently. Clark groaned and tried to bat at the hand. He was tired, dammit, and he wanted to sleep.

“Clark if you don’t get up right now I’ll, I’ll – I’ll drown a litter of kittens.” That did catch Clark’s attention. Not because Lex was threatening to do evil things, that was pretty standard fare, but killing small fluffy animals wasn’t his usual M.O. In fact, Lex sounded a bit… frazzled. And given that Lex could stay calm with a gun to his head, something Clark really could have gone without knowing, a frazzled Lex probably meant something really bad was happening.

“Lex?” Clark said blearily, rubbing at his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Clark, there is a ring on my finger,” Lex told him, thrusting his left hand in front of Clark’s face in order to better display said ring.

Oh, that was what he had done last night. “Yes, there is,” Clark agreed. He got the feeling that there was more he should be saying, but he was running on what was most likely about two or three hours of sleep, and his brain wasn’t quite working properly.

“Clark, there is a _ring_ on my _finger_ ,” Lex repeated. And he sure was using Clark’s name an awful lot.

“Yeah. I put it there,” Clark explained. There was something else he was supposed to be saying he was _sure_ , but he couldn’t seem to grasp it.

“Clark, why did you put a ring on my finger?” Huh. Lex usually had a much bigger vocabulary than that. That was probably either a very good sign or a very bad one. And Clark was definitely supposed to be saying something right now, wasn’t he? Oh, right.

“Will you marry me?”

It was undoubtedly one of the worst proposals ever. In fact, factoring in the fact that Clark had missed their date the night before, hadn’t bothered to shower when he got in and so was still covered in grime and sea water, couldn’t get his eyes opened more than halfway, and wasn’t even one hundred percent aware of what he was saying, it may have been _the_ worst proposal ever.

None of that seemed to bother Lex, who answered Clark question by taking Clark’s mouth in a kiss that seemed to imply that Lex thought the “two people joining together into one” aspect of marriage was literal rather than metaphorical. Clark tried to respond, he really did, but it was just too damn early for him right now.

Clark shifted the two of them on the bed until he was curled up around Lex, not unlike one of the kitten Lex had been threatening earlier, and buried his face in Lex’s neck. “Sleep now, kissing later.”

Lex let out a low chuckle. “Whatever you want, Clark,” he said, running his left hand up and down Clark’s back. “Whatever you want.”

Clark fell asleep to the slick feel of skin-warm metal sliding across his skin.


	6. Everybody Stand Back! Science in Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel as though this chapter needs a warning for extreme fluffiness. I may have given myself diabetes with this one guys.

There was the distinct possibility that Lex was in deep shit.

Correction: there was the distinct possibility that Lex _would be_ in deep shit when Clark got home. This, this was the kind of development couples talked about. They discussed, came to a mutually satisfying decision, planned ahead, and, in general, spent a lot of time preparing for, and Lex was more or less just dumping it into their laps. He hadn’t even meant to do anything wrong, he was just exploring to see if it would even be a possibility for them, given the circumstances. And then, if he came to the conclusion that it was feasible, he had fully intended to bring it up to Clark. There should have been no problems with waiting on that, because the science just wasn’t that advanced yet.

Sometimes serendipity was a bitch.

Footsteps in the hallway, and Lex steeled himself to the possibility of dealing with a very angry Clark. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be so mad that he decided they “needed some space,” and went to stay with one of his friends. Nothing like that had ever happened before, granted, but this was pretty big. Big enough that Clark might, theoretically, be willing to break his rule about never going to bed angry.

Oh God, what if Clark was _hurt_? Hurt Clark was far, far worse than angry Clark. And Lex couldn’t even utilize his normal coping method of going into a blinding rage at the person who hurt him. It wasn’t like Lex was going to erase all records of _himself_ existing. Not that Lex had anything to do with that happening to John Corben, aka Metallo. The fact that Corben’s records had mysteriously reappeared right after Clark had given Lex a lecture on moral limits was just a coincidence.

“Hey, Lex,” Clark said as he entered the room. “How was – There’s a crib in our living room.” A horrible design faux pas, really, but Lex hadn’t been sure what else to _do_. There had to be somewhere to put a baby when one wasn’t holding it besides a crib, but Lex didn’t have the slightest clue as to where that would be. And he couldn’t have put the crib in whichever spare room that was going to be turned into a nursery because, even if babies didn’t need constant supervision, Lex wasn’t willing to let his son out of his sight.

“It’s for the baby,” Lex told Clark. Clark raised his eyebrows, and then crossed the room to peer down into the crib.

“Oh, wow,” Clark said. “Can I…?” he asked, gesturing to indicate that he wanted to pick the baby up.

“Go ahead,” Lex responded. Lex wasn’t holding him, because what if he did it wrong and irreparably damaged their son, but Clark was sure to know what he was doing.

“Hey there, little one,” Clark murmured, scooping the baby up and cradling him in his arms. “Look at you.”

Clark was holding their baby and Lex was definitely not melting. Not even a little bit.

“You know,” Clark said, studying the baby’s face intently, “he” – Clark paused and glanced over at Lex for confirmation of the pronoun. Lex nodded. – “he kind of looks like you.”

 “He does?” Lex asked, surprised. To him, the baby just looked like… well a baby. The best looking baby in the world to be sure, but still just a baby.

“Mmm,” Clark hummed in confirmation. “You don’t have a secret mistress that you knocked up with your love child, do you?” he said.

Or at least, that’s what the words were. Clark’s tone communicated something along the lines of “I know this isn’t actually the case, but it really is the most logical conclusion, so I’m going to go ahead and ask so we can get it out of the way.”

Lex loved Clark.

“No,” Lex assured him, “no mistresses.”

“Good. Me either,” Clark replied. “So if he’s not your illegitimate love child… nephew maybe? Do you have any siblings you haven’t told me about?”

Clark was probably joking, but Lex actually stopped and considered the question. Clark knew about Julian already, and Lucas had apparently gotten himself shot for cheating at poker before Lex had ever even met Clark, which just left, “My half-sister Tess, but she doesn’t have any children. She’s too busy being an eco-terrorist, or a secret government agent, or whatever it is she’s up to now.”

“You have a sister?” Clark asked, surprised.

“My nanny and my father’s daughter actually. I think she lived with us for a few years before she was put up for adoption, but that all happened before the meteor shower, so I didn’t really remember her for a long time.”

“And you haven’t tried to contact her since you remembered?” said Clark.

“No?” And dammit, Lex hadn’t meant for that to be a question, but Clark had that _look_ , the “don’t disappoint me” look.

“I see,” Clark replied. Then he turned back to the baby with the air of someone who wasn’t going to push and was being very long-suffering about it.

Lex would be calling Tess by the end of the week.

“Okay, so not a love child or a nephew, and I assume that you’d tell me before your evil plots started including baby-stealing. I give up, why do you have a baby?”

“We,” Lex corrected. “We have a baby; he’s ours.”

“Ours?” repeated Clark in surprise, looking back and forth between Lex and the baby in his arms. “Lex did you – can you even adopt a baby without both parents being involved?”

Lex gave Clark a Look to remind him that he was Lex Luthor and the word “can’t” wasn’t in his dictionary, before conceding, “No, I didn’t adopt him.”

“You didn’t adopt him? Then… Lex! Have you been _stealing_ _babies_?” exclaimed Clark, scandalized.

Lex was caught somewhere between indignation, even when he had actually been evil, he had never been baby-stealing levels of evil, and confusion, he liked this baby, because it was his and Clark’s baby, but what about babies in general was supposed to be so appealing to him that he would want to steal them?

“I have not been stealing babies,” Lex told Clark. “I… do you remember those hairs you gave me to study?” Clark nodded. “Well, I manage to sequence your DNA, or whatever the Kryptonian equivalent would be called, and found that it was remarkably similar to human DNA. Similar enough that I decided to do a few tests to see if hybridization was possible. I was going to come to you once I had the results, but the test went… rather better than I expected.”

“Hybridization,” Clark echoed as realization slowly dawned. “You mean he’s _our_ baby?”

“Yes,” Lex confirmed and Clark glowed. Not literally, because that, in all honesty, wouldn’t have been all that surprising, but figuratively, the way new mothers supposedly do.

“Oh,” Clark said staring at the baby’s face completely enraptured. “Oh, wow. I can’t wait to tell mom. You know the first thing that she said to me when I told her I was gay was that with an alien for a son she already knew she wasn’t going to be having grandkids anyway. But this, just, wow.”

Suddenly Clark looked up at Lex, his face a mixture of tentative pleading and excitement. “You don’t have a name that you were really set on, do you?”

“As long as it doesn’t start with an ‘L,’” Lex told him. That was a lie. The way Clark was looking at him, he could say he wanted to name their son Lionel and Lex would have agreed.

A grin bloomed across Clark’s face. “Great. Because I always really liked the name Conner for a boy.”

“Kon-El,” Lex offered and, when Clark looked at him in confusion, he continued. “Conner, Kon-El. So he has a Kryptonian name too.”

Lex would have thought it was impossible for Clark to look any happier. Lex would have been wrong. “That’s perfect. Your daddy is so smart,” Clark whispered to Conner confidingly.

“You aren’t… mad, then?” Lex asked. Clark didn’t _seem_ mad, in fact he seemed about as far from mad as possible, but no harm in making sure.

Clark looked at him in surprised confusion for a minute before sighing. “Come here,” he said, punctuating it with a small jerk of his head. Lex took a few steps, until he was standing directly in front of Clark. “Arms up,” Clark commanded, and, all of a sudden, Lex was holding Conner. Lex panicked for a moment, trying to mimic Clark’s stance from earlier while Clark helped by tugging his arms into the correct position. Then, once Lex had a proper grip on Conner, Clark wrapped his arms around Lex’s waist and pulled the two of them in close, his forehead resting against Lex’s.

“Now,” Clark said regarding Lex with sparkling green eyes, “what exactly about this situation would be making me mad?”

“I’m dropping a baby in your lap without having talked to you about it or giving us any time to prepare,” Lex informed him. “Normal couples–“

“Lex,” Clark said, interrupting him. “We are not normal. We are quite possibly the strangest couple ever. And that,” Clark paused to place brief kisses of each on each of Lex’s eyelids, his nose, and then a slightly slower one on his lips, “is absolutely wonderful.”

Lex just breathed for a few moments, soaking in the warm presence of his husband and his son.

He'd rather be wonderful than normal anyway. 


	7. There's Sleeping Together and Then There's *Sleeping* Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well roxymissrose, I couldn't give you porn for your birthday, but hopefully a lot of obliquely referenced to sex will do. Happy Birthday!

Two and a half months. Seventy-six days. One thousand eight hundred thirty eight hours, give or take a handful of minutes. That was a really long time to go without sex, at least in Lex’s opinion. Especially when your husband had the body of a Greek god – in fact, before Diana showed up Lex had been convinced that the Greek gods had been Kryptonians dicking around on Earth and using their sun-granted superpowers to act superior to humans, as they had apparently been wont to do – and a mouth like… well Lex didn’t think there existed a word that meant sublime and gifted and otherworldly, both in the literal and the metaphorical, all at once. He should get on that. Right after he solved the lack of sex thing.

Lex really didn’t think he was being unreasonable about this whole thing. He knew it wasn’t possible for them to have sex multiple times every day, no matter how appealing the idea sounded. Clark and Lex both had full time jobs with the tendency toward odd hours, plus Clark had that superhero thing which, despite the increased efficiency and somewhat lessened danger, really didn’t take any less time now than it had before Clark and his spandex-clad friends had started up the Justice League. And even when their schedules did synch up, Conner took up the whole of at least one of their attention.

But, despite all that, they still had managed to have mind-blowing sex at least once, but more often two and sometimes even three times a week. That was because the two of them had about the same sleep cycle, so when life didn’t get in the way, they both were going to bed at about the same time. It didn’t allow for as much sex as Lex felt like he should be entitled to as a married man – Lex had heard tell of married couples that basically never had sex, but clearly none of those people were married to Clark Kent. And good thing too, Lex would hate to have to kill them – especially since there were far too many nights when at least one of them was too exhausted to do anything, but it was often enough to keep him content.  

So, things had really been going quite smoothly, right up until the point that Lex’s son, his precious, precocious son whom he loved more than anything or anyone, had suddenly become a fucking menace.

Well, a menace to fucking, at any rate.

Seventy-four days ago, Conner had decided, in all his two year old wisdom, that the best place in the penthouse for sleeping was right in between his two dads. The first couple of days it had been rather sweet. Really, Lex relished _any_ opportunity to lavish Conner with the physical affection Lex’s father had deprived him of when he had been a child. But after a week it had started to seem a little less sweet when Conner flashed his big puppy dog eyes every night at bedtime, making it all but impossible to say no. (Clark claimed they weren’t puppy dog eyes at all, but Conner’s variation of Lex’s wounded/vulnerable look and seemed largely uninterested in Lex’s insistence that he had no such look.) Even then, it wouldn’t have been a problem if not for the fact that any attempt to move Conner back to his own bed after he fell asleep invariably woke him up and got them treated to the same wide-eyed stare.

That was not to say that they hadn’t had any opportunities to have sex since this started. Tess, who Lex was beginning to regret tracking down no matter how long-suffering Clark was being about it because the woman was clearly unbalanced (granted the only proof of that Lex had at the moment was that, despite having the good fortune of getting the hell away from Oliver Queen, she had gone right back to sleeping with him the next time they had crossed paths, but still), had offered to watch Conner overnight one day so she could bond with her nephew. Surprisingly, Conner hadn’t objected and even Lex’s protests that they shouldn’t be leaving their son with a sociopath just because Clark had orphan issues didn’t seem like they would have kept Clark from pounding him through the mattress if they ended up going home alone, since Clark was feeling too desperate for sex to feel righteously indignant. In the end, Clark had gotten his way regarding Conner’s sleeping arrangements by whispering in Lex’s ear exactly what he planned on doing when they got back and then flying them both out of there while Lex was too lust-dazed to argue. They had made it to their bedroom, Clark eschewing undressing themselves in favor of sticking his hand straight down Lex’s pants, when Clark had tilted his head to the side in that particular way of his that had Lex cursing in languages he didn’t even know. And fuck Australia and fuck their tsunamis and fuck their kangaroos and their fucking attitudes, Lex was going sink them all into the fucking ocean. Just as soon as he got laid.

That was it. Tonight Lex was just going to have to put his foot down, no matter how downtrodden and pathetic Conner looked. He could beg and plead and look at Lex with big sad eyes, and Lex would quite firmly tell him no.

Or maybe Lex could just come up with a plan B.

“Lex, this is a surprise. Was there something you needed, dear?” said Martha’s voice in his ear before Lex even realized he had dialed the phone, much less had had a plan B already formulated.

Sometimes his brain even astounded him.

“Do I need a reason to call you?” Lex responded.

“Of course not. I just thought you might have something better to do in the middle of the work day,” she said. Lex looked up, startled to realize that, yes, it was two on a Friday, yes, he was in his office, and, yes, he did have a lot of work he was supposed to be doing. Shit, if this didn’t work then Lex was marching straight over to the _Daily Planet_ and, Clark’s disturbingly legitimate concerns about Cat Grant somehow getting pictures of them in the act or no, he was grabbing Clark and dragging him to the copy room for a quickie.

“Actually, I was just a little distracted with thoughts of Conner. It occurred to me he hadn’t seen his grandmother in a while, and I thought it might be nice –“

“Lex,” Martha interrupted, sounding both amused and chiding at the same time. “You remember I raised a son too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Lex said. Considering her results, Lex had long considered her an expert in the matter.

“Then I hope you realize I wouldn’t think any less of you if you told me my grandson was driving you crazy and you wanted me to take him off your hands so you and your husband could get some alone time,” she said.

“I… That would be wonderful, thank you,” said Lex.

“Anytime,” Martha said.

After he finished working out the details with Martha, he called Clark up to let him know about their new plans for that weekend. Then he threw himself into work for the rest of the day. Originally he had been planning on coming into the office for at least a half day on Saturday, LexCorp was in the middle of a couple of very big projects at the moment, but that clearly that wasn’t even remotely an option any more. Of course, doing all that work today, when he had already wasted half his time thinking about all the sex he wasn’t having, meant he was going to have to work pretty late into the evening. In fact, he didn’t finish until nearly 9 o’clock in the evening, coming home to a dark and apparently empty penthouse.

He was heading down to his home office to get his laptop so he could hack into the Justice League computers and find out who he needed to destroy for ruining his evening – Clark and Lex had an understanding were Lex pretended like he didn’t know the complete ins and outs of the Justice League’s computer security system, and Clark pretend like he didn’t know that was a load of bullshit – when he spotted a glow from the other end of the hallway. Cautiously optimistic, by which he meant he was fairly certain it wasn’t the unholy team-up of Darkseid and an eviler version of his father from another universe waiting for him, Lex walked down the hall and pushed open the door to his and Clark’s bedroom.

Clark, sprawled naked across their bed lightly stroking himself. “What took you so long?” he said petulantly, thus proving once and for all Lex’s theory that Clark could make anything sexy. Then he licked his lips, sending Lex into some sort sensory overload, because everything that happened afterward was a blur. A hot, intense, pleasure-filled blur that resulted in a ten hour sex coma.

Lex woke up the next morning to Clark watching him sleep, creepy, a kiss on the nose, annoying, and more incredible sex, worth it. Afterwards Clark declared it to be a ‘stay-in-bed-all-day’ day, an idea that Lex whole-heartedly agreed with.  He also decided they should have pizza for breakfast, which Lex was less enthusiastic about, but was willing to go with it if they could have sex again while they were waiting for delivery. The pizza came about the same time they did, and they watched _Back to the Future_ while they ate it. Then they had more sex. Of course, they could hardly watch the first _Back to the Future_ without watching the other two, so they popped them in, stopping in between the two and in the middle of the third for more sex. They channel surfed for a while after that, landing on a Star Trek marathon which resulted in Lex yet again trying to explain the Kirk/Spock subtext to Clark. He was pretty sure that Clark still didn’t get it, if for no other reason that all the talk of sexual undertones distracted them and they ended up having sex again before Lex could finish making his point. By that time they were both ravenous, the last of the pizza disappearing sometime during the third _Back to the Future_ so they ordered some Chinese food for dinner. While they were waiting Lex brought up the subject of Star Trek again, but when Clark tried to claim that Wesley really wasn’t that bad, Lex had to kiss him to shut him up, which inevitably lead to more sex. The food arrived and Clark, who decided they had had enough sci-fi for the day, flipped to the middle of the really rather awful Keira Knightley version of _Pride and Prejudice_ to watch as they ate. Clark insisted on eating with his fingers, of all things, sucking on them in an absolutely obscene way. So, of course, more sex. A shower was definitely in order then, though Clark following him for shower sex somewhat impeded his efforts to get clean. After that Lex could no longer stay quiet about the physical impossibility of the sheer amount of sex they had had that day, but Clark argued that with his own superpower and Lex’s enhanced healing the lines of possible were changed significantly. That lead to a disagreement as to whether or not replacing spent semen counted as healing which, somehow, lead to more shower sex. They eventually managed to use the shower for its intended purpose and washed the sweat and grunge from a day of lying in bed having an astonishing amount of astonishingly good sex off each other. That necessitated changing the sheets because there was no way Lex was climbing between those nasty things with his clean self. Finally, at about ten at night after a truly exhausting day, they crawled back into bed, curled their weary bodies up around each other, and went to sleep.

Or tried to anyway. After an hour of nothing, even Lex had to admit it wasn’t working.

“Lex?” Clark whispered.

“Yeah?” Lex whispered back.

“I think I know why we can’t sleep. You need to put on some pants,” Clark said, rolling out of bed, presumably to go get Lex some pajama pants.

“Being naked is the problem?” Lex asked. It wouldn’t be the first time nakedness kept them from sleeping, but it had never worked quite like this before.

“No, but it will be in a minute,” said Clark cryptically, pulling his own bottoms on. Then he tossed a pair at Lex, hitting him in the face. “Sorry. But go ahead and pull those on, and I’ll be back in a second.” Clark vanished, leaving Lex with no choice but to comply.

After five minutes Lex started to get impatient. He was about to call Clark, verbally as Clark obviously hadn’t taken his cell phone with him, when the other man reappeared, carrying a sleepy two year old in Superman pajamas – Clark thought they were embarrassing and Lex thought they were tacky, but Conner loved them, so there wasn’t much they could do.

Of course.

Clark set Conner down on the bed, and Conner immediately made his way over to Lex, nestling up in the circle of his arms. “Missed me,” Conner declared confidently, no doubt echoing sentiments Clark had expressed to him upon waking him up.

“I did,” Lex agreed before placing a kiss on the top of Clark’s head.

“We both did,” corrected Clark. He positioned himself behind Conner and draped an arm over both Conner and Lex, so the three of them were cuddled up together in the center of their enormous king-sized bed.

“Here now. Go sleep,” Conner told them.

Lex met Clark’s eyes and shared a brief smile before doing just that.  


End file.
